Weight of the World
by WaywardSon5160
Summary: Sam's discovery of a new ability leads him to consider whether it would be safer for Dean if he were no longer around. No Character Death, but close! Spoilers through Metamorphosis 4x04
1. Andy's gift

**Summary**: Sam and Dean's arguing leads to Sam's discovery of a new ability. After considering the consequences of this new ability, Sam finds himself with a gun and a single bullet. NO Character death. Spoilers through Metamorphosis (4x04).

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

**AN:** I am submitting this all at the same time, however I broke it into 3 different chapters for dramatic effect. Thre is mention of suicide (just as a warning). This is another darker story. I promise my next story will be happier. Apparently there are songs by Evanescence and Elton John with the same title as this story... I didn't know they existed until after I googled this title. The title comes from a line at the end of Ch 3. Suffice it to say this story isn't based off of those songs. However, I hope you enjoy it.

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"That's stupid, Sam. We finally get a break from that creepy little bitch and you want to hall off and track her down. We don't even know how good of a lead that is, man. Bobby called like 3 hours ago with a freaking _eye-witness _report in Oklahoma. Some idiot civilian tracked the creature down to its cave before he bit it… or, well… was bitten by it. Come on! This thing has eaten 5 people in the past 2 months. Pretty soon every Tom, Dick and Horse's ass is gonna go looking for it. We are potentially seven hours away from busting a silver cap in some Ozark Howler's ass."

Sam huffed shaking his head glaring out the window because he wouldn't look at his stubborn ass of a brother anymore. "And we are like 5 hours away from shiving Lilith and ending this freaking war!" Why didn't Dean understand how important this is? Lilith was the reason Dean went to hell. _Well, __**I'm**__ the reason Dean went to hell. _

"What's this really about, Sam? Is it cause Ruby sent you the intel? You trust her over Bobby, now too? Cause I **know** you trust her over me. Or is this about your abilities? What, you want another shot at your midnight escapades? If you're jonesing for another psychic showdown with a demon you can just give Ruby the heads up, see if she can meet you there." Dean regretted his comment as soon as he finished saying it, but it was too late to take it back. What's more, he did mean some of it. Sam crossed his arms and looked out the window. His brow knit in frustration and anger. Dean was waiting for the explosion. After throwing all that in his brother's face, Dean gave Sam about 20 seconds before he'd completed his rebuttal. _Damn temper messed things up again, Dean. God, when did being brothers become so hard?_

XxXxX

He was sick of Dean ridiculing him about using his abilities. It didn't seem to matter how many times he told Dean he was done with them. It was never enough. He was tired of trying to get Dean's trust back. Sam closed his eyes wishing away the past 10 minutes. He didn't want to fight about this anymore. Taking a calming breath Sam turned to his brother, "Just forget about it, Dean!"

"Okay."

The response was automatic and monotone. There wasn't a hint of sarcasm or annoyance. Silence stretched between the two for what seemed like hours. Initially Sam thought Dean was just stewing in his own juices, waiting to pounce on the next thing Sam tried to say, but as another mile sped by beneath their tires and all Dean did was turn up the radio when Boston blared over the speakers and throw him a lopsided grin, Sam knew something was up. Sam stared at his brother, dumbfounded. _What the hell just happened_?"Hey, Dean?" Sam asked, his voice sounding much younger than his 25 years, "What were we just talking about?"

"Uh," Dean clicked his tongue a few times arching an eyebrow as he attempted to recall their last conversation. All the while Sam held his breath for the first time hoping his brother would rehash a fight they'd been through, "Bobby just called about heading to Northeast Oklahoma for a go at the Ozark Howlers, why?" Dean looked at Sam as though medication or rubber walls were in the near future. _The learning curve is so fast, it's crazy, the switches that just flip in your brain__._ All Sam wanted to do was curl into a ball and die. "Nothin, just making sure." Sam stared out the window once again, knowing that if he faced his brother the only event liable to occur would be tears and apologies, Sam tried to force his breathing to even out and his heart to stop pounding, but _God, did I just… _

"What's up, Sammy? You got something against Oklahoma or you just sick of my face? I know it can't be the latter, cause, I'm awesome and we both know it…" Dean was trying to make him feel better. He probably had that stupid smirk on his face and everything, but all Sam could think about was that he'd not only tapped further into his demonic arsenal, but that he'd used it against Dean.

The ride to the motel took several eternities. All the while Sam kept reliving the memory of **forcing** Dean to think something. Of removing his brother's free will.

XxXxX

Sam was numb to the world. He didn't fully remember unloading his gear or where Dean went. Something about food or women or beer. _Probably all of the above. It doesn't matter_. He didn't remember getting out Dean's gun or rifling through his pack for a bullet. But the gun was in his hand and there was one bullet in the chamber. _Silver… just in case_. The past few days flashed through his overloaded and slightly hazy brain. The fight with the Rugaru. The fight with Dean. His oath to never use his powers again. It didn't seem like that was even an option anymore, if they were just going to show up out of the blue. He couldn't stop the visions once they began, and now it seems Sam can't stop the other abilities from developing no matter how much he didn't want them. What would happen if he got that girl Lily's power next? What if he got it while he was helping his brother up or shoving him cause he was being an ass or punching him cause he really was an ass sometimes or putting pressure on Dean's wound because his brother is unconscious and he needs to staunch the blood before Dean goes into shock… the what ifs kept piling up until Sam felt buried beneath the number of ways he could and probably would kill his brother as more abilities manifested. Cause who's to say they won't… Sam found himself looking down at the gun cradled in his hands as the edges blurred in and out of focus, tears filled and fell from his eyes. Were his last thoughts really going to be about Dean? _God, that's lame. Not particularly surprising all things considered, but still lame… I should write something down. Tell Dean why this had to happen._

Headlights suddenly splashed through the window. Sam's breath froze, as the thought of Dean catching him mid-act made him scared in a way that thinking (or lack thereof) that Dean would have to clean up after the fact didn't. He dropped the gun on the bed and ran for the small bathroom. Sam made it to the small room seconds before Dean crashed through the door as conscious of Sam's privacy as an elephant was of the insects it trampled. "You feeling alright, Sammy?" Having no choice but to table his earlier decisions, Sam threw some water on his face and looked at his pale reflection knowing that he'd never pass his brother's scrutiny; neither, however, was he able to stay in the bathroom until morning. "SAM?!" His brother's voice was slightly harder now, demanding discourse. Sam realized he should have answer the first time… Having taken one final glance at his reflection, Sam took a steadying breath and opened the door.

"You stupid fuck!"

END CH1


	2. Sam's curse

Chapter 2

Dean pushed through the motel room door, the bag of food dangling precariously from his mouth as both hands were busy opening the door and balancing the drink carrier. After the infamous porno incident of '07 he made sure to make as much noise as possible giving Sam every indication that he was on his way in the room and he wasn't stopping. As he made his way inside he noticed the bathroom door abruptly closing. He would have called out but the bag cheesy cholesterol goodness he was lugging about in his mouth hindered his inquiry.

Setting down his packages Dean surveyed to the room, always interested with what his little brother did when he wasn't there. _As if being around him 23/7 wasn't enough. _ It looked exactly the way he left it a half hour ago when he went to get the food. _Lame. _ "You feeling alright, Sammy?" His brother still hadn't come out of the bathroom.

Dean went to sit down on his bed-by-birthright closest to the door. A glint of silver caught his eye before he sat down, though. He picked up his gun from the bed inspecting it carefully. Years of habit-forming vigilance had him checking the clip and chamber. One silver bullet placed carefully in the chamber shining dully as it caught the light from the ancient halogen lamps of the motel room. His brother still hadn't made a sound from the bathroom. Something wasn't right; he could practically freaking taste it.

"SAM?!" Sam walked over to the bathroom all the while trying to think of some reason, _any_ reason that _his_ gun would be lying on his bed with one bullet ready to blow his little brother's brains out. Sam opened the door before Dean was able to knock it down. The look of shame and grief that flitted across his brother's face was the only answer he needed as anger and fear flared him coloring his vision and clouding his judgment.

"You stupid fuck!" Before he realized what he was doing Dean had fisted Sam's shirt forcing him into the bathroom wall.

"You wanna explain what the FUCK you were planning with this, Sam?" Dean indicated the gun he still held in his free hand. "Make sure to use the small words cause at my level of pissed off, I'm not as capable as usual at weeding through your bullshit."

"Dean, I…" Sam didn't have an answer; couldn't think of an excuse. Dean didn't give his brother a chance to formulate a lie. He was too angry and scared (Holy shit he was scared) and didn't know what to do, so he stuck to his MO and let himself get angrier.

"Did that bitch, Ruby, tell you the Winchester levels in hell were getting low, or do you just want the inside scoop? How bout I give you the cliff notes version." Dean placed the handgun in his waistband to get more shaking leverage on his stupid little brother. "It fucking sucks!" Dean articulated the last two words with a slam against the wall. Releasing his brother Dean ran his hands through his hair and began pacing the room not knowing whether more violence would alleviate the pressure that was building behind his eyes.

Dean spread his arms wide, trying a different tactic when anger failed to yield results, opening himself up to his little brother. "What can I do, Sammy? Is it something I said? Is it something I've done? You gotta help me out, man. I can't read your mind. You need to tell me what to think here"

_Got it in one, big brother. _Fresh tears sprang to Sam's eyes. "I… I controlled you, Dean."

"What are you talking about, Sam?" A hint of suspicion crept into Dean's voice.

Sam looked at the mangy carpet unable to meet his brother's hateful gaze, "These are not the droids you seek."

"Wha-" Realization dawned on Dean. Two and two and one and two suddenly wound up equaling seven, and all the missing pieces fell into place. Betrayal and anger flashed across his face as he moved toward his brother with surprising speed. Before Sam could move or even breathe he found himself flat on his back while black spots danced in his vision and a ringing filled his ears. "WHAT did you do?" His brother paused, giving Sam time to process, "What did you _MAKE ME_ do?" Dean's voice was lethal, deadly.

Sam didn't get up off the floor. He just lay there waiting for the next blow to come. _Hoping_ the next blow would be the last. Sam heard his brother's boots cross the floor. A strong, familiar grasp took hold of his shirt, wrenching him up to eye level with strength exceeding what he would have guessed his brother possessed. "What did you do, _Sam_?" his name was spat at him, a far cry from the loathed nickname only his brother was allowed to use.

Tears streamed down Sam's face as he looked anywhere but his big brother's eyes, "I made you forget." it was barely a whisper. Dean's eyes narrowed. Sam's breath hitched, "We were having this fight… God, this STUPID fight in the car and I said, 'Just forget it, Dean' and you did… Like it never happened." Dean straightened at that, his grip in Sam's shirt losing some of its strength as he lost himself in the memory. Sam was babbling now. His words tumbling over one another in a rush to make themselves heard. "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Just end it, Dean. Please. I don't want to hurt you anymore. You promised you'd end it if I went too far. Hell, you said you'd freaking hunt me not 2 weeks ago." Tears still leaked from Sam's eyes however there was heat behind his last words.

"No." Dean's grip in his shirt redoubled as a fierceness born of determination far more than anger lit his features. "No, Sammy." Dean let go of Sam's shirt releasing his hold and his little brother. Without the support Sam began to sink to the floor. His anger spiked at Dean's reluctance.

"Just like that? You're gonna let it go? After all that crazy kid Ansem or Richard or whatever the hell his name was did with this ability? He killed people, Dean, and I could, too, just as easily. I didn't want this ability, and I don't want to hurt anyone. Just kill me, Dean. Please."

Dean remembers the last time Sam, well actually 'Meg,' had asked him to put a bullet between his kid brother's eyes. It was a long shot, especially with their tattoos still in place warding off possession, but he had to try, "_Christo_."

"I'm not a demon, Dean…" Sam looked down his next admission visibly taking its toll on him, "I think I'm something worse, so just please end it. Dad warned you this might happen. I'm losing my grip. You said it yourself. It's a slippery slope, and I think I'm on my way down. Do you remember what Jake did? How he fucked with Ellen's brain? Almost made her shoot herself in the fucking head? What if I go over the edge and do that to you, Dean? I can't live with myself. I won't live myself if that's what's going to happen." Dean turned from Sam giving himself space and time to develop something, _anything,_ to stop this conversation before it went too far… well, farther.

Sam was no longer able to take the assurances of his brother. No longer willing to put the world or, more importantly, his brother at risk, Sam reached deep searching for the escape he desired, for the relief he deserved. Opening his eyes he looked at his brother, "Shoot me, Dean"

No sooner was the command issued before Dean's spine went rigid, his every muscle taut, fighting the directive. Dean turned around to face his brother as his hand went to his jeans removing the handgun in one fluid motion. Every neuron was firing, trying to stop his muscles from doing his brother's bidding, but his brain wasn't in control anymore. "Sammy… Sammy, no. Stop, _please._" His knuckles were alabaster against the butt of the gun as he slowly brought it up to eye level, his efforts to reign in his body's movements only succeeding in making the advances jerky and slow. "Sammy, I can't… I won't"

Sam looked at his only remaining family, "You can. You will." Sam closed his eyes taking a deep breath and stepped up so that the barrel of Dean's gun met the center of his forehead. "I love you, Dean."

"Sammy, _please_-"

END CH2


	3. Weight of the World

Chapter 3

"Sammy, _please_-"

_Click_

Sam opened his eyes wide searching Dean and then the room for some explanation.

The gun removed itself from Sam's forehead as Dean was the first to realize he once again had full control over his body, the drive to shoot his brother relinquished with the pull of the trigger. Dean's eyes hardened as he brought the butt of the gun squarely and surely to his brother's temple. Sam slumped to the ground as consciousness fled his body as surely as reason had moments before.

Awareness returns slowly and, without doubt, painfully. Sam reaches up to grasp his head and ask his brother why Dean let him drink so much last night. His hand comes up short. Sam opens his eyes as memory returns with a burst of pain. Sam sweeps the room searching for his brother.

Dean regards his brother with hooded eyes. The anger that he felt towards his brother slowly ebbed away as he handcuffed Sam to the bed and periodically removed all potential weapons from the room. The bullet from the gun lay in his hand. While Sam was still out he'd made a trip to the pawn shop and gotten rid of his favorite gun. Dean didn't remember how much he got for it. It doesn't matter. Dean can only think of one use for the money, and that cash is going to get him _very_ drunk after this is over.

"So now that I have your undivided attention. How bout you tell me what's going through your head. There aren't any weapons, so don't _ask._" The inflection carried more than just what he meant, but also how he felt about the macabre turn of events. "Unless of course you'd like me to snuff you out with a pillow. Or I could drop the tv on your head. Or string you up with the bed sheets. Oh! Or I could rip out the cord from the lamp and electrocute you. Maybe you'd get to experience a heart attack the way I did when we were hunting those rawheads. That was by far my favorite way to go." Dean made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, giving electrocution his seal of approval. Sam squirmed what little he could against his restraints.

"Did you even think about what that would do to me, Sam? What _watching_ as my body shoots my little brother on his command would do to me? I don't know if you remember or not, but last time you died didn't exactly go over too well for me..." What could Sam say that he hadn't already said? He'd pleaded, he'd cried, he'd ordered, but Dean just didn't get it. _Evil is evil, and killing it is what we do-_

"You're not evil and you're not going to turn evil and you're not going to hurt anyone, because you're stronger than this, Sammy."

Sam didn't look up, his eyes fixated on a distant point, "I don't know-"

"Well, then I'm stronger than this."

"It doesn't work like that, Dean. What if you can't stop me? What makes you think you ever could?"

Dean arched an eyebrow at that, "First of all, you fight like a little girl. Add in some freaky powers and that might put you on equal footing with Steve Urkel. So calm down. Let's just have a beer. Let's have FIVE. Least when you're drunk sometimes your'e funny." Dean had that idiotic smirk back for a second.

"Dean-" Sam sounded exasperated, teetering on annoyance. That was a good sign. Annoyed or pissed Sammy beat out mopey, stupid suicidal Sam any day of the week. Dean felt like he was finally making some headway. Leaning forward to add weight to his next words, Dean held out his hand.

"And what about this, Sam?" Dean indicated the still tightly held silver bullet. "I told you back in Black Rock during that messed up rabbit foot case, my gun doesn't fucking jam. What does that tell you?" Dean paused, taking a breath and leveling his little brother with a look that pleaded for understanding. "You know what that tells me, Sam? Maybe the dicks upstairs," Dean motioned vaguely upwards, "have more in store for you than pillaging villages and eating babies, or whatever the hell you think Darth Sammius was planning. Maybe they brought me back because no matter what happens, I'm going to make sure that you continue to be the pain in the ass little shit that I grew up with." Dean gave him one more verbal shove before lapsing into silence, "The big guy has faith in me, Sam, how bout you show me some."

"Are we just about done talking about this?" Sam asked lying his head back down on the bed staring up at the ceiling. _I thought it was bad when all I had were death visions…_

"No, Sam, we're not. First you try to fucking off yourself giving _me _the luxury of pulling the trigger after tapping into some newfound level of messed-up, crazy, bullshit powers and now you're brushing it off like the most unfortunate thing that happened today was that I forgot to put sugar in your freaking coffee." Dean finally took a calming breath using the moment's respite to glare at his little brother. "I need some sort of assurance that you're not gonna pull this kind of shit again."

Sam looked forlornly up at his brother from his bed-like prison. He was tired of fighting the same fight over and over again with Dean. He was tired of trying to find reasons to justify what should be a black and white answer to the "I'm turning evil and need to be destroyed" problem. He did trust his brother, but Sam couldn't help feeling that someday, maybe soon, he'd finally lose control and then lose Dean forever… again. Dean wasn't giving up, though, and that meant more to Sam than Dean would ever know. "The weight of the world really is on your shoulders now, big brother." Dean regarded him coolly from his sentry position next to his brother. Sam closed his eyes, reached deep and _trusted _his brother.

"What'd you say, Sam?"

Sam opened his eyes focusing on his brother, "Just forget about it, Dean."

The end.

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AN: Well, that's all you get. I hope you liked it. Reviews would be great! I'm sorry if you thought it was carp, but you're wrong. This is fanfiction, not fish. I'm also sorry if you thought it was crap. Don't worry, I don't mind. Did you all like the episode this week? I thought it was kickass.

-Jake (WS5160)


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